“I’m serious.” He said, his moon face rounded in concern. “The Beaumont crier. Everyone in the dorms knows what I mean.” He paused to look at me; I shrugged my shoulders in ambivalence. “The crier.” I again shrugged. “Well, it’s not what you think – and I can’t believe you haven’t heard of them – I thought you said you knew most of the dorm.”

“Well, I guess my social skills are slipping.” I again noted sarcastically. “I can’t believe I don’t know someone who everyone else knows as a total wreck who sobs all the time. Clearly I am missing out. Because they sound like a hoot.”

“No, the crier.” He sighed exasperatedly. “Like a town crier. You’ve never heard anything about it? No? Alright, well, I’ll tell you. A couple weeks ago, there were these girls walking by your dorm, and this voice booms out at them. Well, since the lights are out, they can’t see anyone, so they keep going, and it keeps yelling at them.”

“What did it say? ‘Hello, this is God, give me your number?’”

“Yeah! Something close to that. See, you do know this story!”

“No. I just picked the most inane thing to say, and said it.”

“What? You haven’t heard this? So, anyhow, they keep walking along, and the voice keeps yelling at them, these really – inane – is that what you said? I’ll just say crude things. Wait – you seemed to have an easy idea about what to say – is it you???” I shook my head negatively. “Anyhow, they left, and then the next night, other people walked by and they were insulted, and then it went on and on, until finally, some of us started to yell back at the person, and even look for them, but the voice moved – you know, from window to window, and we couldn’t find them, and someone even called campus police, because you know, its kind of crude, but they didn’t find anything either. I mean, we thought it was for sure a room with a skull in the window, but the police went and checked it, and no one was there, and I can’t believe you haven’t heard of this. So you don’t know who it is?”

“Let me get this straight.” I began. “There’s someone who yells….”

“Really loud.”

“Yells really loud, and its insulting, and the police are involved, and people want to know who this moving, ‘phantom’ insulter is and now you’re asking me my opinion?”

“Yes.”

I laughed. “This is stupid. I don’t care, and I definitely don’t know. How about ghosts? But don’t worry, P; with the crack team of campus police on the case, I’m sure we’re at least six months away from a break in the case. Alright, I’m off. I have to study. You sit here and worry about the mystery sounds, but I’m off to the library. I’ll call you later.”